This Cake Is As Blue As My Balls
by wearing-tearing
Summary: [Stilinski Custom Cakes #6] When Stiles gives his dad a low fat vanilla cake covered in blue frosting the night before he's due back to Beacon Hills – the words this cake is as blue as my balls written on it with -, Stiles finds that not having sex for a week is totally worth it if only for the horrified look on his dad's face as he sees it.


Stiles thought that if his dad was ever going to catch him with his pants down and getting an enthusiastic blowjob from his boyfriend while having his nipples teased, it would have happened when he was sixteen and sneaking into Jungle on Friday nights when he was supposed to be at Scott's.

But this is his life, so he shouldn't be as surprised as he is.

Really.

Because, sometimes, Stiles is just unlucky that way.

And that's how his dad meets Derek Hale.

* * *

Stiles takes a moment to thank the heavens for his natural curiosity of all things that involve getting off.

Because even though it was the source of one too many terrible nightmares about being chased by monster dildos, it also resulted in some pretty awesome things.

Like, for example, the remote controlled vibrator he's holding in his hand right now.

And that Derek is eyeing like it holds the secret to everything he's ever wanted to know about life and his dick and the amazingness that is having his prostate stimulated.

They're not shy when it comes to sex.

They've been together long enough to know that they can pretty much talk to each other about anything, especially when it comes to wanting to try new things in bed.

So when Stiles sat down and told Derek about wanting to add a vibrator to their growing toy collecting, Derek agreed.

He even went as far as helping Stiles pick out the vibrator.

Which Stiles thinks is fair, considering the way Derek is laying on his back on the living room couch with his pants and boxers down his ankles and his shirt rucked up under his armpits and Stiles draped over him.

Stiles, who is uncomfortably hard in his jeans because he still has _all of his clothes on_.

They haven't even done that much yet, just lazily touching and kissing each other - Stiles unbuttoning Derek's pants and pushing them down, bringing a hand up to Derek's face so he could get it wet with spit before and then sliding it down under the waistband of his boxers, pumping Derek's dick until he was fully hard before letting him go -, but Stiles knows it really doesn't take a lot to get him turned on, not when it comes to Derek.

He gets off on _Derek_ getting off, on him panting and groaning and thrusting into Stiles' hand.

So Stiles stops what he's doing before he comes in his pants, because he wants to do that in Derek's mouth or maybe on his tattoo or while he has his dick up Derek's ass.

He hasn't decided it yet.

"_Stiles_," Derek grunts, breath hot and wet against Stiles' neck.

"Yeah," Stiles breathes out, dipping his head so he can get his mouth on Derek's, slot their lips together as he licks at Derek's teeth, waiting for him to open up so Stiles can taste him.

"C'mon," Derek says when Stiles pulls back with one final nip at Derek's lower lip. "Let's see what your new toy can do."

Stiles tries not to roll his eyes at him, placing kisses and tracing his tongue over Derek's skin as he slides down Derek's body, pausing to tongue at the slit of his dick and lick at the precome gathered there, smirking to himself when Derek gasps.

He keeps at it, mouthing at Derek's shaft and then moving down to his balls, sucking them into his mouth as he gets a hand under Derek and lifts his hips up a little.

Because as excited as he might be about getting to fuck Derek open with their new vibrator, there's no way he'll miss the chance to bury his face on Derek's ass.

Because Derek's ass is one of Stiles' favorite things about him, and Stiles thinks it deserves all kinds of special attention - from the best brand of lube to getting to break in new toys to have one-on-one time with Stiles' face and tongue and lips and fingers and _especially_ his dick.

And one of the best things in Stiles' life – apart from Derek's ass – is the way Derek reaches a hand behind his knees and pulls them closer to him, exposing himself to Stiles and going as far as wiggling in place a little when all Stiles does is stare.

Not that he can be blamed, because, really, _Derek's ass_.

He shuffles closer, as best as he can while awkwardly propped on top of the couch, letting go of the vibrator to get one hand on Derek's hip while the other goes to his right cheek, spreading him even more open than he already is.

By the way Derek clenches around nothing, Stiles knows he can feel Stiles' breath against him, knows this is his way of asking for it, of asking to be touched and stretched and filled.

Stiles thinks about staring some more.

Staring until Derek starts moving for real, starts shifting until he can get closer to Stiles, until he can push his ass against Stiles' face, until he's breathing hard in anticipation and sweating and with his lips swollen and red from biting on them to keep the noises in.

But they still have the vibrator, so Stiles figures he's okay with giving Derek what he wants now as long as he gets to have _his _fun later.

He leans down and places a kiss over Derek's hole, moving the hand he has on Derek's hip to his stomach, feeling the muscles quiver under his hand. He takes his time at first, tracing his tongue over the rim, giving slow and shallow licks as he makes Derek wet with spit before he starts pushing his tongue inside.

Stiles changes his grip on Derek's ass so he can press his thumb over Derek's hole, opening him up more so he can get closer, _deeper_.

The room is silent apart from the wet sounds of Stiles' tongue going in and out of Derek's ass and Derek's sharp intakes of breath and moans when Stiles gets a finger inside of him to join in on the fun.

And Stiles loves this.

He loves getting lost in the feel and taste of Derek, hearing the little sounds he makes and seeing how he shamelessly pushes his ass back against Stiles' face, always asking for more.

He stops what he's doing to get the lube from under one of the couch cushions, mentally patting himself on the back for making sure all the rooms in the apartment had provisions hidden somewhere in case he and Derek decided to get down and dirty and didn't have time or the inclination to go look for a bed.

That actually happened a lot more than someone would think, and Stiles absolutely loved every fucking minute of it.

He bites the inside of Derek thigh as he gets his hand on the bottle of lube, opening the cap and pouring some on his fingers before giving Derek one final lick and pushing two fingers inside.

He slides in easy, and since he can't get his mouth back on Derek's ass because of the lube, he slides up a little until he can get to Derek's dick, flushed red and hard as it rests against Derek's stomach.

Derek lets go of one of his knees to palm himself, wrapping his fingers around his own cock and bumping the head against Stiles' lips, smearing it with precome.

Stiles looks up at him from under his lashes, taking in the flush starting at Derek's ears and running down his neck and chest, not once stopping the movement of his fingers scissoring him open.

He licks at his lips before opening his mouth obediently, relaxing his throat and jaw as Derek guides his dick inside, humming around him as he feels the head of Derek's cock bump at the back of his throat.

Stiles lets Derek thrust up into his mouth for a few seconds, enjoying the grip Derek has on his hair, keeping him in place, making sure he's right where Derek wants him.

He taps the hand still holding the bottle of lube against Derek's side, Derek canting his hips up a couple more times before letting go of his hair and letting Stiles pull back.

Stiles grabs the vibrator from its place on the couch and slicks it with lube, closing and throwing the bottle somewhere on the direction of the coffee table.

"Do you want me to turn it on before or after it's inside you?" Stiles asks him, his voice hoarse and raw from having Derek's dick in his mouth.

It sends a thrill down Stiles' spine, knowing how completely fucked out his voice is, all because of Derek's _dick_.

And by the way Derek closes his eyes and shudders, he has a thing for it too.

"After," Derek chokes out, opening his eyes just in time to see Stiles smirk at him.

"Hands behind your knees," Stiles says, voice low.

He waits until Derek has a grasp on his legs again, pulling them impossibly close to his chest and presenting himself to Stiles.

Stiles indulges in his favorite past time in the whole world: watching Derek.

Because Derek is god's gift to fucking earth, and he's all _his_.

All Stiles'.

No one else's.

So Stiles traces the edge of the vibrator over Derek's hole, wet with spit and lube and stretched from Stiles' fingers and tongue.

He teases him at first, pressing lightly but never pushing inside, watching as Derek clenches whenever Stiles pulls the vibrator back.

"You look so good like this," Stiles murmurs. "All spread out for me, waiting to take whatever I'm willing to give you, so fucking _eager_ for it."

"_Stiles_," Derek whines, his dick leaking a bead of precome on his stomach at Stiles' words.

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles says, placing a kiss to the back of Derek's thigh before staring down at his hand.

He pushes the vibrator in slowly, keeping his eyes on the toy and he slides it inside of Derek, listening as Derek's breathing speeds up and as he moans low on his throat as Stiles starts fucking the vibrator in and out of him.

It's not long before Derek is pushing his ass back against Stiles' hand, telling him to _stop fucking teasing_ and _turn it on_ and _c'mon, Stiles_.

"You're so fucking pushy," Stiles shakes his head, going for the remote control on the back pocket of his jeans. "Fucking hell."

"I wouldn't be if you got a fucking move on," Derek glares at him from under his lashes.

Or at least tries to.

Stiles can't say it has any effect, not when Derek has his knees up his ears and lube all over his ass and his lips are red from biting and his hair is damp with sweat.

Stiles still narrows his eyes at him in response, pushing the vibrator in again with no warning before turning it on, smirking smugly at himself at the startled yelp that turns into a moan that comes out of Derek's mouth.

He lowers his head again, getting a hand around Derek's cock and sucking the head into his mouth. He keeps fucking him with the vibrator, the low buzzing of it joining the wet sounds of Stiles sucking him off, all coming together with Derek's groans and moans and _yes _and _that's it_ and _Stiles_.

Stiles sometimes considers getting his phone and recording Derek's live commentary of them having sex, only so he can listen to it later while fucking himself on a dildo on all those times Derek has to go away in some stupid tattoo convention and Stiles has to stay at home because of his classes.

He doesn't, though, too preoccupied with getting Derek as deep as he can in his throat and bobbing his head in rhythm with the vibrator.

He flicks the remote control occasionally, changing the intensity of the vibrations whenever he thinks Derek is about to come, releasing him to nip and suck at the skin of his thighs and lower stomach, just keeping him on the edge until Derek is a shaky trembling _gorgeous_ mess.

Derek is past the point of talking, past the point of making any coherent sounds to tell Stiles to _make him come _and _please_ and occasionally _I hate you so much_.

It's only when Stiles sees the tears forming on Derek's eyes that he takes pity on him, that he decides to give Derek what he needs, that he gets his mouth back on him and starts fucking him with the vibrator in earnest.

He presses one of his fingers behind the skin of Derek's balls just as he pushes the vibrator in and that's it. Derek's entire body tenses, his head thrown back and mouth opened, as he rocks his hips into Stiles' mouth once more before he's coming down Stiles' throat.

Stiles, who does his best to swallow everything and only turns the vibrator off when Derek gets a hand on his hair and pulls him off his dick.

Stiles barely has any time to glare at him or try to lick the come running down the corner of his mouth before Derek is on him, mashing their lips together and fucking his tongue into Stiles' mouth, tasting himself.

Stiles braces himself with a hand on the arm of the couch, the other coming to cup Derek's jaw, his thumb tracing the stubble on his cheek as Derek keeps kissing him.

Even though he could stay here kissing Derek for the rest of forever, he still needs to come.

Like five seconds ago.

Because his dick is _hard_ and it _hurts_ because Stiles is still in his boxers and jeans and all of his clothes, really, and they need to remedy that.

He tells Derek that much.

"I need to come," Stiles says against Derek's lips, grinding the hard line of his cock against Derek's thigh, dropping his forehead against Derek's and groaning at the pressure.

Derek pushes him off of him with both hands on Stiles shoulders, stopping to pull his boxers and pants back up before he's positioning Stiles as he wants him.

And by that Stiles means with Derek pushing him until he's sitting on the couch with his legs spread and Derek kneeling on the ground between them.

Stiles runs his fingers through Derek's damp hair as Derek starts working on getting Stiles' pants opened, bending over to place a kiss on his forehead when Derek finally unbuckles his belt and pops the button opened.

"The vibrator," Stiles rasps out, hissing when Derek starts to slowly pull his zipper down. "Are we keeping it?"

Derek just tugs at his pants until Stiles lifts his hips and Derek is able to push them down a little, stopping when they're finally around Stiles' thighs and looking up to raise an eyebrow at him.

"We're keeping it," Derek says, pulling at Stiles' boxers until his cock is free, letting he elastic fall back just behind his balls. "I might even use it on you sometime after I'm done sucking you off."

Stiles is not proud of the sound he makes at that, and not at the way his back arches off the couch when Derek licks a stripe up his dick before tonguing at the slit, bringing a hand up to play with his nipple rings and tug at the bars, and then finally, _fucking finally_, swallowing him down.

Stiles gets a hand on Derek's hair as Derek sucks him deeper, harder, sloppy and wet and exactly the way Stiles likes it, his fingers pinching and pulling at one of his nipple rings, and just as he's about to shove Derek's head on his crotch and come like it's the last time his dick will get a chance to do so, the front door bursts open.

And Laura steps in.

And then promptly covers her face with her hands and turns on her back while screaming _oh my god_ and _what is wrong with you two_ and _you have a bed_.

But not before the person she's with steps into the living room.

That person being Stiles' _dad_.

Who Stiles will soon learn decided to stop by and visit his only son and somehow managed to get Laura to help him keep it all under wraps so he could surprise Stiles.

But right now the Sheriff just points his eyes skyward as if begging for strength before sighing and saying, "Get dressed. I'll be at the shop and trying to keep Laura from stabbing herself in the eyes with her car keys."

All Stiles can do is blink at his dad's retreating form, because this _did not happened_.

His dad _did not_ just walked in on him getting a _blowjob_ from his _boyfriend_.

A boyfriend he hasn't even _met_ yet.

Not counting the time he caught the boyfriend sucking Stiles' dick.

Because that _did not happen_.

Stiles absolutely fucking _refuses_ to admit it.

He's pretty sure he would have stayed frozen and staring at the apartment door for about _forever_ if it wasn't for the dying noise Derek makes at the back of his throat.

And when Stiles turns to look at him is to find Derek with his head hung low and the tip of his ears _completely_ red.

Just like his neck and cheeks.

And Stiles will bet his two nuts that his chest looks about the same.

"That didn't happen," Stiles says firmly, pressing his lips together when Derek makes another choked-up noise.

"Your _dad_," Derek chokes out, snapping his eyes shut. "Your _dad_ just caught us having sex."

"No, he didn't," Stiles says, and he can hear the faint hysteria in his voice. "Because this _didn't happen_."

"Your dick is still hanging out," Derek points out, staring at Stiles' half-hard cock with a pained look on his face.

Yes, Stiles' _half-hard _ dick, because apparently it didn't get the memo that there will be no coming in Derek's mouth or anything like that.

Because Stiles' _dad_ caught them having sex.

"I think we should just forget this ever happened," Stiles nods, because that's a good plan. "We'll just take a quick shower and change clothes and go meet dad in the shop and I'll make the obligatory introductions and no one will mention the fact that my dad caught me with my dick down your throat for as long as we live, okay?"

Derek still looks like he's in pain, but he still manages to nod shakily before getting up off the floor and walking towards the bathroom.

And that leaves Stiles to melt back against the couch, give his crotch two quick pats for being interrupted in such a horrifying and traumatizing way, and feel sorry for himself for about three seconds before he hears the shower running and gets up to go join Derek.

* * *

Derek won't look Stiles' dad in the eye.

Not that Stiles blames him, really, considering what happened.

Not that either of them ever mentioned his dad catching Stiles and Derek having sex.

And it is also kind of funny to watch Derek squirm and have the tip of his ears getting red whenever his dad tries to talk to him about something.

Things were a little awkward when they met at the shop, Stiles throwing an arm around his dad's shoulder as soon as he saw him, giving him a tour of the place so Derek could have some time to get himself together and probably rip Laura a new one for not calling and letting them know she was going to stop by.

In all honestly, Stiles is a little mad at her for that.

Sure, he loves having his dad here, especially since they haven't seen each other in some time, but Laura really should know better by know than to just come into their apartment without warning them beforehand.

Because if she did that, if she _called_, things like what happened might have been avoided.

And Derek would be staring his dad in the eye while they have dinner at the dining room table and pointedly ignore the couch.

Stiles doesn't think he's seen his dad sit there for the entire three days since he's been here.

Stiles can't say he blames him.

What he does blame him for is that he hasn't had an orgasm since the morning before his dad came in.

Because Derek doesn't touch him.

Whenever Stiles tries to get a hand under his pants when they're in bed or blow him in the shower or straddle him when Derek is sitting on one of their dining room chairs, Derek gets this freaked out look on his face and gets as far away from Stiles as possible.

All the while hissing, "Your _dad_."

Like that's supposed to mean something.

Which it probably would, if Stiles was anyone other than himself.

But he's not, and he wants to _come_ and he wants to have Derek's hands on him and his mouth and his cock and if that doesn't happen soon he's pretty sure he's going to _die_.

Because there's only so many ways he can get himself off with his own hands before it starts getting boring.

Especially considering the fact that he has Derek, and that every orgasm he's had for a really long while now usually involves him in some way.

So really, Stiles blames his dad.

And his cockblocking ways.

And Laura, for not learning how to pick up her fucking _phone_ and giving them some warning before bursting into their apartment like she owns the fucking place.

The only reason he doesn't do anything really mean to her - like convincing Derek to fuck him on top of Laura's kitchen table or something – is because she is the one who tells his dad about Derek drawing the three _nightblooming cereus_ currently inked on Stiles' arm.

The only reason he doesn't do anything really mean to her - like convincing Derek to fuck him on top of Laura's kitchen table or something – is because she is the one who tells his dad about Derek drawing the three _nightblooming cereus_ currently inked on Stiles' arm.

His dad catches a glimpse of it the first night he gets there - Stiles raising his arm to playfully smack the back of Erica's head when she says that she now knows where Stiles gets his good looks from -, his eyes going misty before his face softens, and then Laura is launching into an explanation of how Stiles had mentioned them to Derek and Derek made sure he had a drawing ready if Stiles ever decided to get some ink in honor of his mom.

The Sheriff clasps Derek on the shoulder after that, telling him he did a good job, but not before grabbing Stiles by the arm and tracing a finger over the ink and then pulling him into a hug.

That still isn't enough to make Derek let go of his embarrassment.

Or to make him look at Stiles' dad in the eye whenever he talks directly to Derek.

Or to get him to help Stiles get off.

So it is no wonder that on the Sheriff's third night visiting Stiles is twitchy.

_Beyond_ twitchy.

So twitchy that he almost knocks his wine glass all over the table and stains Derek's fancy tablecloth.

"You okay?" Derek asks, setting his fork down and bringing a hand up to rest against Stiles' as he holds the glass up.

"Yep," Stiles nods, lips pressed together in a thin line as he glares at Derek's hand. "Totally fine. I'm just _peachy_. I'd be even better if you'd take your hand off so I could take a sip of my wine, how about that?"

Stiles knows he's being an asshole.

By the way his dad is staring at him with an eyebrow raised and following the line of his glare to Derek's hand, he also thinks Stiles is being an asshole.

And taking in the way Derek just blinks at him as if startled and then removes his hand from Stiles' as if he's been burned, Derek is _certain _Stiles is being an asshole.

Because apparently that's what happens when Stiles doesn't get his daily dose of Derek's _something_ – his mouth, his fingers, the groove on his hip bones made just for Stiles to thrust his cock up against until he's coming, his ass, his overly sensitive nipples, _his whole fucking body whatever_ -, he turns into a giant fuckface.

And Derek doesn't deserve it, not really, not when he's only doing this out of some fucked up sense of respect for his dad that involves not defiling his son while they're under the same roof.

So Stiles just sighs and scrubs a hand over his face and smiles a little at his dad and asks, "Is it okay if Derek and I step out of the room for a minute?"

"Sure, son," the Sheriff nods at him, offering Stiles a reassuring smile that soon turns into a smirk as he points at the meatlovers pizza he and Derek are sharing. "I'll even take care of that for you."

"Don't you dare," Stiles narrows his eyes at his dad before getting up from the table and looking back at Derek. "Come with me?"

He waits for Derek's sharp nod before he starts walking towards the bedroom, closing the door behind him when Derek steps inside.

"What," Derek says flatly, his eyebrows twitching in a way that tell Stiles that he's trying to keep his face blank so Stiles has no idea about _pissed _ and _hurt_ he's feeling.

"I'm sorry," Stiles answers, coming to stand closer to Derek but careful not to touch it. "I was a dick and I'm sorry, but I'm just- I'm _frustrated_, dude."

"Don't call me dude," Derek scowls at him, mouth tense and arms crossed over his chest.

Stiles snorts at that, shaking his head before running a hand through his hair and trying again.

"You won't touch me," Stiles says, and he's a little bit surprised at how _broken_ he sounds right now, because this is supposed to be about him not getting off, and not about how fucking _empty_ he feels without having Derek near him all the time. "Ever since my dad got here, you won't even get within two feet of me."

"Stiles-" Derek starts, but stops when Stiles just raises a hand at him.

"I know why you're doing it," Stiles tells him. "I know it's because you're trying to respect my dad, but I need you to stop," Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat. "I need you to stop shying away from me whenever I get too close to you, or looking like it physically pains you to be around me whenever he's here. I know you're doing what you think you're supposed to, but it hurts, and I need you to stop."

Stiles' voice cracks at the end, and next thing he knows Derek has his arms wrapped around him, Derek's mouth on his own, Derek's teeth nipping at his lower lip begging for entrance, and Derek's tongue tasting him when Stiles opens up.

They're both breathing hard when Derek finally pulls back to whisper _I'm sorry_ and _I don't want you to feel that way_ and _I want you_ and _I always want you_.

So it's not really Stiles' fault when he asks, "So does this mean we're going to have sex again?"

"No."

_Fucking fina-_

"What?" Stiles says a little higher than he meant to, gaping at Derek.

"I wasn't doing that out of respect for your dad," Derek explains, the tip of his ears starting to blush. "I think that went down the drain when he caught me with my mouth on your dick.

And, okay, Stiles has to give him that.

But that still doesn't explain why they can't have sex.

"That still doesn't explain why we can't have sex," Stiles frowns at him, shifting a little in Derek's arms.

"You do know your dad is staying in the room night next to ours, right?" Derek says slowly, like he's talking to a particularly dense person.

"So?" Stiles asks, because he still can see how that would be a problem.

"Remember when Scott and Allison had a fight and Scott came to stay with us for the weekend?" Derek says, looking at Stiles intently. "And every single night you'd complain about how you could listen to him watching _A Walk to Remember_ and crying?"

"I don't understand his fascination with that movie," Stiles shakes his head.

"That's not the point," Derek tells him, exasperated. "The point is that you could _hear him_."

"I still don't see how that has anything to do with-" and then Stiles' eyes widen as understanding washes down on him because now he _gets it_.

"Now you get it," Derek nods his head, lips twitching in amusement.

"Oh my _god_," Stiles says, horrified. "My dad would _hear us_. He would hear us having sex. He would hear us having sex because you're amazingly vocal when we're doing it and because I'm always loud and it's all because your walls are ridiculously thin and _oh my god_ he. Would. Hear. Us."

"And that's why I haven't tried anything," Derek says, voice low and soft. "I'm sorry I made you feel like you weren't wanted," and Derek leans in to rubs their noses together. "You're always wanted."

Stiles makes a content noise at the back of his throat and pecks Derek on the lips, pulling back before it turns into a full blown make out and saying, "As soon as my dad is out of the house and on his way back to Beacon Hills I expect you to fuck me open with our new vibrator until I'm hard and leaking and all stretched out for you," Stiles licks his lips, enjoying when Derek tracks the movement with his eyes. "And then you're going to bend me over the couch and fuck me so hard and thoroughly that I'll come without a single touch on my cock, how's that?"

Derek's face contorts in a new kind of expression, his eyebrows twitching in a way Stiles knows it means _I know you're only saying this to tease me _and _I'm going to kill you _ and _your dad_.

Stiles can't find it in himself to be sorry about it, not when he gives Derek a final kiss on the lips before stepping out of the room. Not when he sits back on the table and finds that his dad not only didn't touch his and Derek's pizza but finished every last slice of his veggie one. Not when Derek joins them a few seconds after and, for the first time since Stiles' dad got here, looks the Sheriff in the eye as he asks him what he thought of the pizza.

And definitely not when, for the next four days before his dad leaves, Stiles makes his own personal mission to seduce the fuck out of Derek, going as far as wearing tighter clothes and making excuses to eat ice cream or drinking anything that involves a straw and walking around shirtless with his nipple rings and ink in full view.

And _especially_ not when Derek just narrows his eyes at him and locks himself in the bathroom for fifteen minutes each time and comes out looking really pissed off at the world, glaring at everyone who even dares to look at him, and walking around with his legs spread a little wider than usual.

Chaffing.

Stiles would feel sorry for him if he wasn't having so much fun with this.

Because really, _his life_.

* * *

When Stiles gives his dad a low fat vanilla cake covered in blue frosting the night before he's due back to Beacon Hills – the words _this cake is as blue as my balls_ written on it with -, Stiles finds that not having sex for a week is totally worth it if only for the horrified look on his dad's face as he sees it.


End file.
